"Is that a marching band? Do you hear that?" Laurelyn looked out our 9th floor window of our hotel room. "Oh my goodness! It's a parade! Get your shoes on. We're going to a parade."
I was catching a mid-afternoon snooze, actually, and I woke to the click of the hotel door closing.
I sat up groggily, leaning back on my elbows to survey the situation. My half-awake self realized the room was empty of my friends, and then I pieced together the conversation I thought had been a dream.
Oh! They went to see a parade? I can't miss this!
I threw on a pair of shoes and raced out the door, eager to catch up. I followed the sound of the bass drums until I found my girls a couple of blocks down the street. Sure enough, a parade, right through the city streets of Portland.
"Trish! You know what Donald Miller and Bob Goff say: nobody's allowed to watch! Get in there! Get in the parade!"
So I jumped in. I danced and clapped. There's this bit of me that loves to join a loud, silly scene, and I'm beginning to find her again. So I joined the parade.
And that's when I realized I'd never quite seen a parade like this one. What I thought was a marching band was actually a small tribe of people carrying drums and dancing in a circle. People were chanting and carrying placards. There was a long line of policemen on bicycles, all equipped with riot gear.
I wasn't dancing in a parade. I had joined a protest.
Would you look at this picture? Tarbled hair, wrinkled clothes, and one leg of my jeans tucked into my boots. I tumbled out of bed to march in a protest.
And I never even learned the cause.
But I did learn on the Portland News that there were some arrests and pepper spray a few blocks down. So, you know.
Guess I can cross that off my bucket list.
One man's protest is another woman's parade.
Oh my gosh. That is great. I love the look on your face. "Um, where am I? What did I just step into? Uh, guys, a little help here? Oh well, this is fun."
Laughed out Loud!!!
Define tarble, I asked Google, and it simply *couldn't* And yet we all know what you are talking about. I love this post. I love the comments it illicits. I love that we get to mentally decide if we'd roll over or run after the girls in pursuit of a parade. I'm hoping the memory of it will spur a bunch of choices we'll want to write about later, too. Thanks for sharing!
That made me literally LOL. 🙂
This could be read as a cautionary tale by someone like me who takes caution to the extreme. But...somehow it makes me want to fling myself into life instead. Even if I sometimes wind up where I didn't expect to be.
Such a fun story! And I love the picture. And I love that you would tumble out of bed because I probably wouldn't for anything short of a fire alarm. I want to be more like you.
This was just too awesome :-). "Oh, the Places You'll Go!!" was all I could think as I read the end of this post. That, and did you ever find out what you were protesting?!
Rolling on Floor Laughing! That's hysterical!
Excuse me while I laugh very loudly. Good story. Also you look good in that picture. Are those skinny jeans? Girl.
You can laugh, Jaimie. 🙂 And thank you - they're Lucky jeans: Zoe Cut. 🙂